ANTONY & CLEOPATRA → ALFIE SOLOMONS

"you look beautiful"

i feel like it's kinda necessary for me to point out that these are all the same person, just at different points in their relationship with alfie lol

also 200ish reads?!?! that's crazy hey y'all !! did u know that if u vote for my stuff i'll be more motivated to update??;)

anyways hi kiss & love i hope u enjoy :**

—

Just a soft press of lips to the temple, resting them there for a moment, then smiling down and telling them as much.

Gripping John's arm, you were sure you were going to vomit.

"Relax," John muttered, chewing on a toothpick as he watched you panic. You were sure things were going to go haywire. It was bad enough that Tommy had refused to give you his blessing unless you were married in a church, which was a battle and a half to get Alfie to agree to. But since no rabbi would agree to marry you, he was stuck. "You're thinking too deep about it."

"What if he doesn't like me?" You stressed, gripping onto your brother's lapels. "W-What if I'm not a good wife? John, I don't know how to cook. Polly never even taught me how to sew!"

John rolled his eyes, spitting his pick and gripping you by the shoulders. "Listen to yourself," he said firmly, frowning as he looked into her watering eyes. "you sound stupid. Alfie wouldn't have asked you to marry him if he cared that you didn't cook, right?"

You sniffled, and John sighed before pulling you into a hug, lifting you slightly off the floor and squeezing you tight. Over his shoulder, you watched as Finn came over, his eyes widening as he caught sight of your tears. John released you, and Finn—who was taller than you despite being younger—fished in his coat for a handkerchief, handing it to you.

"You alright?" Finn asked softly, reaching out to tuck a stray hair behind you ear, trying to make you look less frazzled. "Wedding jitters?"

"Wedding jitters," John scoffed, nudging Finn in the ribs. "Hell of a good timing you picked, kid. Five minutes before you're set to walk down the aisle, aye?"

"Shut up," you whimpered, smacking at John's chest as he laughed. "This isn't funny!"

"You know, I'm pretty sure you could puke at the alter and Alfie would still say his vows," Finn joked, putting an arm around your shoulder. "The man's head over heels for you."

You knew that they were right, and you knew that this anxiety was only a product of you refusing to allow yourself to panic before-hand. But it was all hitting you at once, and you were positive that you weren't going to make it down the isle.

Finn departed a moment later to take his place in the pews, and John stuffed the handkerchief into his pocket after he finished dabbing at your tears, making sure you were presentable.

"You ready?" John asked, his tone much gentler as you took his arm, your shaking fingers clutching his suit.

"Don't let me fall, John," you whispered as the cathedral doors opened, revealing you to the church full of people, and your soon-to-be husband at the end of the isle.

He looked great, if you were being honest. Ollie, who now stood behind him proudly, had somehow managed to convince Alfie to trim his beard, making him look twice as young and ten times less stressed. His suit was black silk and fitted, accentuating the muscle of his arms. Alfie's hands, adorned with gold rings and bracelets, were clasped in front of his, shimmering in the sunlight that leaked in through the window.

At second glance, Alfie looked absolutely decadent.

You felt your throat tighten with emotion as John lead you down the aisle, your feet moving of their own accord. You tried your hardest to keep your chin from wobbling and your eyes from watering, knowing that beneath your veil, you were still alive under the scrutinizing stare of your family.

"Why's she crying?" You heard Arthur mutter loudly as you passed him, as well as the offended hiss as someone—presumably Linda—elbowed him in the ribs.

By the time you reached the alter, you could see Alfie's expression clearly. The way he grinned down at you, in-love and care-free, made your nerves dissipate. You were no longer terrified to take on the Solomons name—instead, you were proud as John placed your hand into Alfie's, the coolness of his rings a pleasant feeling on your skin. John squeezed your hand before retreating back to the pews, but you didn't look at him. You couldn't look at anybody but Alfie, who lifted your veil without breaking eye contact.

"You look... fucking beautiful, my love," Alfie whispered, leaning forward and letting his lips press to your forehead before Jeremiah was clearing his throat, clearly not pleased with Alfie's choice of words. "Absolutely stunning, yeah?"

"Right," you hummed, turning and kneeling with Alfie. "Let's get this over with, then. The sooner I'm a Solomons, the better I'll feel."

"I'll have to agree with you on that one, pet."